Naked
by Sela McGrane
Summary: Sometimes the best things come out of the worst ones. Minerva McGonagall is about to become acutely aware of this. Rated M for sensitive themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Not for the faint of heart. Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Hermione looked in horror at the figure laying beaten and unconscious in an otherwise abandoned classroom. The defeat of Voldemort only hours before suddenly felt for naught to her, as she slowly approached the naked form of her Professor, Minerva McGonagall. She was alive, Hermione could tell, but not by much. The Transfiguration expert looked frail, laying sprawled over the desk like she was, wrists and legs bound apart, leaving her body exposed in the most intimate way possible. Hermione shuddered, seeing blood trailing down the older woman's thighs, knowing what it meant. Angry claw marks on Minerva's hips and back, signs of bruising on her neck, and chucks of her long, ebony hair, pulled off her scalp in chunks...were all indications of rape. Very, very, violent rape.

"Oh, gods," Hermione whispered. Her own voice, soft that it was, snapped her out of her shock. She took off her own jacket and quickly Transfigured it into a thick cloak, draping it over Minerva's figure.

The moan that came out of her Professor's mouth as a result startled Hermione, but she kept moving. She unbound Minerva's arms, noting at least one fracture that would need tended to, and then unbound her legs, finding several welts that would also need addressed. "It's alright, Professor," Hermione said softly. "I've got you."

Minerva's body fell limply into her arms, and Hermione was surprised at just how light the woman was. No robes certainly had something to do with it - McGonagall's were known to be heavy - but Hermione thought that the stress of the last year probably had something to do with it as well. Hermione, knowing the wards were down all over the castle, apparated the two of them directly to Minerva's personal rooms. She'd only been there a few times before, but she thought her mentor would prefer to be taken there, rather than to the decidedly public forum of the Hospital Wing. Upon arriving, Hermione levitated Minerva to her bed, drawing back the comforter and placing the woman on top the sheet. She then pulled another sheet over the older witch, before going over the Minerva's fireplace.

"Hospital Wing," she called, throwing some Floo Powder into the low flames.

Poppy Pomfrey's head popped into the flames a moment later. "Miss Granger? What are you doing in Professor McGonagall's quarters?"

"She's here as well," Hermione stated. "She's...injured, and I rather think she'd prefer if students did not see her as she is."

"Did she say that?" Poppy asked.

"She's not said anything," the young witch replied. "As I found her unconscious, and she has not as of yet woken."

"I can come through, then," the Matron nodded. "Just let me grab some things. Can you give me an idea of her injuries?"

"Are you alone?" Hermione asked, concerned that anyone might overhear what she was certain Minerva would _never_ want the general school population to know.

"Yes," Poppy replied, brow furrowed. "What is it, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Bring what you need to treat broken bones, cuts, welts, and severe bruising...as well as anything else you would need to heal injuries that would result from a brutal rape."

The Hogwarts' Nurse's eyes got wide and pained. "Oh my...are you certain?"

"I found her bound, legs and arms tied to a desk, spread eagle," Hermione said quietly, beginning to cry. The reality of the what had happened to her beloved Professor, to the woman she cared for more than she should, was beginning to truly sink in. "She was totally naked, beaten and bloody."

"I'll be right there," Poppy said, head at once vanishing from the fireplace. All of two minutes later, the flames roared to life again, and the Matron stepped through, nodding as Hermione pointed towards Minerva's bedroom.

"Can I help?" Hermione asked, starting to follow.

"I'm certain Professor McGonagall would not want you to see her…"

"Madam Pomfrey...Poppy," Hermione said sternly. "I've already seen all there is to see. If you can use my help...what Minerva may or may not want me to see was made a non-issue the moment I walked into that classroom."

"Very well, Hermione," Poppy replied after a moment, nodding for her to join her. "It's obvious you care for her...and she will need that in the days to come."

"Whatever I can do to help…"

* * *

Minerva woke feeling like she'd been hit by the Knight Bus. The last thing she remembered was…

Fighting Death Eaters.

Following Greyback as he chased after a couple of young Gryffindors who had not left the castle.

Greyback giving up his pursuit of the children and turning on her.

Her surprise as his attack changed from one of spellwork to a fallen beam hitting the side of her head…

Then nothing for a while. She'd woken next, feeling cold air on her skin, and a rough wooden desk. Minerva recalled wondering if she'd fallen asleep while grading papers, but...why was she naked?

And… why were her arms and legs bound?

Then, with a flash of pain and disturbing images, Minerva remembered a splintered board hitting the back of her bare thighs...and everything that followed. Memory of the event looping in her mind, the Transfiguration Professor did what any woman in such a situation might do.

She screamed.

"Hey, hey," a gentle voice said soothingly. "It's okay, you're safe, Minerva."

Warm arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her close in a comforting embrace. "NO!" she still screamed.

"It's over, Minerva," the voice said, holding tightly as the older witch struggled. "He's gone."

"Gods…" she whimpered, giving in and settling into who-know-whose arms. "Oh...gods…"

The unknown source of comfort hummed a calming tune, and after a few more minutes, in occurred to her that she did not know the identity of who was holding her still scantily clad body. "Who…" she whispered, turning her head. "Miss...Granger?"

What the hell was a STUDENT doing in her quarters, holding her like this?

"I found you," the young woman explained, as if reading her mind. "I brought you here...called Poppy. No one else knows what's happened."

Minerva nodded, accepting the situation. Embarrassing as it was for a student to see her like this, if it had to be a student who found her, she was grateful it had been her protegé. She'd never met anyone quite like Hermione Granger. She'd hoped, after the girl graduated, that the two might become friends. Not that this was an ideal way to go about it, but the situation, if there was a silver lining to be found, was a surefire way to create a more personal relationship between them. That said, she was never the type to want to impose… "Miss Granger, you don't have to…"

"_Hermione_," the young witch corrected softly. "And I want to be here. Let me help you through this...as I _do_ understand, to some degree, what you are going through."

"What?!" Minerva exclaimed, fully understanding what her student was hinting at.

"Harry was not the only one of your cubs who suffered abuse at home," Hermione explained vaguely.

Minerva was furious. "When I get my hands on…"

Hermione chuckled. "Let's worry about you for now, Minerva."

"Hermione…" the older witch sighed, resigning herself to the care of the young woman still holding tightly to her, stroking her hair softly. "Thank you…"

* * *

When Poppy walked in several hours later to check on her colleague, she was surprised to find Hermione Granger laying in bed with Minerva, who was clinging tightly to her student, and sound asleep.

"Hermione?" Poppy whispered.

The young witch in question tilted her head and nodded. "She was awake for about an hour...remembered what happened. She started to thrash about, so I grabbed her to keep her from irritating her wounds, and once she calmed down she refused to let go of me."

"Do you need me to…?"

"No," Hermione assured the school Matron. "I'm fine here. Just, please let Harry and Ron know I'm safe. It's been hours...I'm sure they have taken note of my absence by now."

Poppy smiled. "Mr. Potter came to me, asking after you, almost immediately after I returned earlier," she said. "I told him that you were assisting me with a critical patient, and not to fret. I'm sure he passed the word to Mr. Weasley."

The conversation caused Minerva to stir. "Poppy?" she asked groggily.

"Yes, Minerva," the Matron replied softly. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better," the ebony haired woman quipped.

"Well you still have a talent for stating the obvious," Poppy huffed. "I guess that's good, though."

"Hermione?" Minerva asked, turning to look at the woman still holding her. "You're still here?"

"Passing out in my arms is not enough to get rid of me," the younger witch replied with a wry grin.

"If finding me as you did," Minerva frowned, "wasn't enough to make you run the other way, I don't know what would."

"Not a damn thing," Hermione said firmly, placing a kiss on the older witch's temple. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

"You seem to have acquired a Knight in shining armor, Minerva," Poppy said with a smile. "This one is a keeper. You might as well marry her."

Hermione blushed, which Poppy obviously took note of, by the look of amusement on her face. Minerva blushed too, Hermione noted, which raised a few questions in the younger witch's head.

Was Minerva a lesbian?

Single?

Possibly attracted to...her?

Gryffindor courage beside her, Hermione added to the banter. "I should only be so lucky if she would," she said.

"I believe…" Poppy said slowly, grinning at the both of them. "I shall take my leave. You are obviously in good hands, Minerva."

* * *

After Poppy left, Minerva couldn't help but look at Hermione curiously. Was her student… attracted to her? Really? The notion that a beautiful young which, a very intelligent one at that, might be attracted to _her_...especially knowing what she'd just been through… the notion was simply baffling. As much as she knew she was not ready to engage in any sort of intimate relationship, she couldn't help but admit to herself that the notion of a future relationship with Hermione Granger was not… unappealing.

Most people, after being brutally raped as she had just been, would find themselves utterly broken and unable to function for a given time. She had seen it happen dozens of time in her life. Minerva, however, had always been the type to accept things as they happened, and move on. She would have become a bitter woman, three wars later, if she believed any different. While she certainly wasn't pleased about being violated and beaten, she knew it wouldn't break her. In time, she'd be able to remember and not flinch as she was now. In time, she'd move on. Right now, she'd just pretend to be okay. As her father had often said - '_Fake it till you make it, cub.'_

The wonderful thing about Hermione, Minerva thought, eyeing the woman who seemed to be waiting for her say something, was that the young woman was perfectly aware of what she'd just been through, and sensible a witch that she was, wouldn't press, no matter how attracted she may or may not be.

"So…" Hermione prompted. "I was thinking that perhaps we might make an appearance in the Great Hall for dinner. "I got an Owl from Harry while you were sleeping, saying that the crews have gotten that area cleaned up pretty well, and are planning on a meal this evening."

"How many remain in the castle?" Minerva asked, surprised that anyone had, after the battle that was undoubtedly plaguing many of their dreams.

"From what Harry said," Hermione replied, "Not only have most who were here for the battle last night remained, but dozens of others have come to assist in the clean up."

Suddenly, a tap on Minerva's window caught their attention. "Speaking of owls…" the older witch said.

Hermione nodded and stood up, walking over the the window and allowing the bird to enter. The tawny Owl gliding over the Minerva and dropped an envelope on her lap, a letter, according to the seal, from the Ministry of Magic.

"Go up to the Owlery, Dune," Hermione said to the bird. "Treats are up there."

"I didn't know you were so familiar with Kingsley's owl," Minerva mused.

"Is that who he belongs to?" Hermione asked. "He's never said…"

"Said?" the Transfiguration asked, confused.

Hermione blushed. "Oh...I... um...managed to become an animagus at the end of our sixth year," she admitted. "I didn't register because I knew Harry, Ron and I would be on the run, so telling the Ministry...well, you understand."

"And your form is that of an owl?" Minerva concluded, realizing that like she and other felines could speak, an owl form would allow Hermione to converse with other owls.

"Yes."

"Show me?" the older witch asked of her student.

Hermione smiled brightly, and then with a soft pop, a chestnut colored barn owl with chocolate eyes floated over to where Minerva was still resting on bed, and hooted softly.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," the Professor said with a genuine smile, reaching out and stroking the plumage.

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione said with a saucy grin, upon reverting to her human state at the foot of Minerva's bed. "You're quite beautiful yourself, you know."

"I...I...I mean...that is…" Minerva stuttered in surprise at Hermione's blatant advance.

"Minerva," Hermione said gently, resting her hand on the older witch's duvet covered leg. "Poppy all but told me you're a lesbian, and if you haven't figured out by now _how much_ I care for you, then you are more daft than Ron… and that's saying something."

"Hermione…" the older witch started, wanting to express that while interested, she wasn't ready. "I just…"

Hermione smiled. "Minerva, I know that you're not ready for anything now. I just wanted you to know, now that I realize that the notion of us...together… is not totally impossible, that I am interested in what the future might bring for us."

Minerva had no idea how she'd gotten so lucky, to have met, not to mention caught the interest of, such an incredible witch. "As am I," she whispered, reaching out and laying her hand on top of Hermione's.

* * *

It was a curious thing, to the hundreds of people sitting down to dinner in the Great Hall, how close Hermione Granger was sticking to Professor Minerva McGonagall - who rumor had it, had been elected by the Board of Governors to become Hogwarts' Headmistress. If they didn't know any better, they might have suspected there was some sort of romance between the two.

Hermione, presently, was less concerned with wooing her Professor - that would come later, she thought with a grin - and more concerned with protecting her from all the people who bustled around them, and them from her. As they had entered the Hall, Arthur Weasley had come up behind them and tapped Minerva on the shoulder, at which point the older witch's mind had flashed back to her recent assault, turned about, and nearly decked the poor man. Hermione's quick reflexes had stopped her, much to the confusion of the Weasley patriarch, and since then Hermione had held tightly to her companion's hand whilst they mingled.

They had eaten dinner together, not seeming too out of place side by side, as no one was sitting according to House, nor were the teachers seated on the dias. Today, the day after the battle, they were all equals. By the time the meal came to a close, Hermione noticed that Minerva's eyes were darting about suspiciously, and she'd quietly urged the older woman to take her leave.

Hermione, much to the annoyance of Harry and Ron, who had hoped to spend some time with her, had also said her goodnights, and followed Minerva out of the Hall.

"Will you be returning to the Tower tonight?" Minerva asked, as Hermione trotted to catch up with her.

"Not likely," Hermione said, taking the older witch's hand again. " And I must say that was a dreadful attempt at getting rid of me."

Minerva huffed. "Even my best attempt, I imagine, would not sway you to leave my side."

Hermione smiled. "People can't help who they fancy."

By then, they had reached Minerva's quarters, and stepped inside after the elder uttered the password. "No, I don't suppose they can," Minerva replied, tentatively raising her hand, caressing the younger witch's cheek.

"Minerva?"

"You know, Hermione," she said. "I feel so exposed around you. Like there's nothing you can't see, or understand about me. Anyone else… if others knew what happened the other night, they wouldn't treat me the same. I know I need time to process, but I also know that it has not broken me, nor will I let it."

"That's not your way," Hermione murmured. "You're so bloody strong, and unlike most people, you're not pretending to be that way. It's one of the things I so admire you for."

"But what you feel," Minerva continued, motioning for Hermione to follow as she moved toward the living room area of her quarters. "Goes deeper than simple admiration."

Both woman took seats on the sofa, Minerva naturally falling against the younger woman and into her embrace. "Cliche, I know," Hermione chuckled, "but yes. Much deeper."

"Had you not found me…" the older witch cleared herself, memories threatening to surface as she spoke. "...I never would have considered you as more than a student… before."

"I think it comes down to trust, rather than any other factor that may have prevented you from looking at me as more." Brown eyes squinted in concentration as she thought how to best express her feelings. "Finding you as I did, and being there when you awoke… it was an event that would build exceptional trust between any two people. For one to see another so exposed and vulnerable, and not take advantage, or spread rumors, or anything of the sort… you know?"

Minerva nodded, thinking back on the day that she'd found her own Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore, crying like a baby on the floor of his office, after hearing word of his former lover, Gellert's rise as a Dark Wizard. From that day forward, they'd been friends. Minerva knew that had he been inclined toward women, or she toward men, they might have developed a romantic relationship themselves. "I do," she said. "My friendship with Albus was build on a situation not so different."

Hermione squeezed the older witch tightly. "I love you," she whispered after a minute, fireplace crackling in front of them.

Twisting around to look the younger witch in the eye, Minerva could not help but be overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in Hermione's cadence. Her eyes offered no pity. Her smile offered no sadness. Her blush offered no doubt that she meant what she was saying, entirely. Minerva's heart pounded, a rush of want flowing through her. It wasn't sexual desire, though Merlin knew an attraction very much existed between them. Rather, ir was a deep desire to be close to another person.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she inched her face slowing toward the younger woman. Hermione shifted slightly, as to make the angle more comfortable for such contact, and then slowly, moved to meet Minerva's lips. The kiss began slow and careful, though not in an awkward and unsure sort of way. It was more a issue of savoring the contact; taking time to commit the moment to memory.

When Minerva moved to deepen the kiss, Hermione pulled back. "You're not ready," she whispered.

As soon as the younger witch said it, Minerva knew she was right, and so leaned back into Hermione's embrace versus pushing herself further than she ought. "I love you too," she confessed softly.

Physical intimacy could wait, she knew. This, here and now, she knew she was more naked before Hermione that she ever would be again, and that in itself was worth savoring. She knew that in the weeks to come, she'd inevitably break down and cry, and even if it was not in Hermione's arms, she knew the younger witch would be there as she processed not only the fact that she's been raped, but all the horrors of war. Minerva would tell Hermione about Amelia, and they'd discuss what a romance between the two of them would look like in contrast. Amelia had been an amazing witch, but never one to hold out against Minerva in a debate. The older witch knew she'd enjoy that aspect of her relationship with Hermione immensely.

For Hermione's part, commitment to see Harry through the defeat of Voldemort done with, she was looking forward to the next great commitment of her life. Minerva's welfare was now her primary concern, and she imagined it would continue being so for years to come. She'd always hoped that her former Professor might consider her in a romantic light, though she never would have guessed that it would be something so ugly and brutal to give the older witch a push toward her.

Like herself, Minerva knew the risks of war; she knew what sort of people she was exposing herself to. Minerva chose to take the risk, because it was important to her to help the Order. Hermione understood that. It came down to the greater good. It usually did, for people like them.

* * *

**Continue or no? Marking as complete for the moment, but if you guys think it should be expanded on, just let me know and I'll think something up. PLEASE REVIEW! **


	2. Chapter 2

**As per a surprising amount of interest in this story, I'm continuing it. I'm going to maintain the "Complete" marking, because it's my intention that each addition to the fic will be able to be considered a conclusion. Each new chapter, whenever they happen, with both answer questions from the previous chapter, as well as create a new series of questions that could be answered in the following update, but don't necessarily HAVE to be answered in order to make this fic seem finished. This update deals more with Hermione's history, versus the assault on Minerva. Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

It had been just shy of four months since Minerva had been raped on the eve of the Battle of Hogwarts. There had been good days, and bad days. There had been moments one would never have suspected anything was amiss, and other days in which it was all Hermione Granger could do to keep Minerva from utterly falling apart. With a sigh, the young witch crawled out of her bed, and walked out of the bedroom that four months prior, had belonged to no one but Minerva's overflow of books. A few weeks after the battle, Hermione had asked the older witch if she was ready to have her space back, and though Minerva had agreed she was at the time, less than a week later Hermione had moved back into the older witch's quarters, where she had remained all summer long.

Hermione could hear Minerva screaming in the room down the hall, undoubtedly having another nightmare. As usual, the brunette crawled into bed with her former Professor upon reaching her side, and hold her until morning. Well, in today's case, as it was already just past five-thirty, and the sun was starting to rise, she very much doubted either of them would go back to sleep. "Minerva," she said, laying her hand on the shaking figure's arm.

Suddenly, Minerva was still, and her eyes flew open, seeking the face that went to the only voice that comforted her anymore. "Hermione…" she breathed.

"You were dreaming," Hermione stated, wrapping her arm around the ebony haired witch from behind. "I'm here."

"You always are," came the usual reply. Hermione didn't know if Minerva said that because she was surprised, if she needed a vocal assurance of the fact, or if it was just a statement of fact. It didn't really matter, Hermione supposed. Minerva knew how she felt, and if their one shared kiss four months ago was anything to go by, the older witch felt the same.

"Students return this evening," Hermione reminded her.

To the shock of nearly everyone, Hermione had elected not to return to Hogwarts as a student. She would be remaining in the castle, however, as a Professor's assistant, and spend this term working under Severus Snape for a Potions Mastery. Minerva, to the surprise of no one, would remain at Hogwarts, though now she was Headmistress, and Filius would be her deputy. Minerva had wanted Severus to be deputy, as he'd already been Headmaster for a year, but the Board wouldn't hear of it. It had taken all of Minerva's influence to get the Governors to even allow Severus to return to teach - the condition of which was that he would only be doing so for the year required to train Hermione to take his place.

"Severus will be wanting to see you directly following breakfast. He said so when I ran into him last evening on my way here." Minerva sighed. "I wonder what he wants."

"Well I doubt he's wanting to instruct me in the ways to woo a Professor," Hermione teased, kissing the older witch's temple. "Something related to Potions, I expect."

"Incorrigible witch," Minerva mumbled, leaning back and snuggling securely into her former student's embrace.

"So what was the dream this time?" Hermione asked after a minute. She knew it helped the green eyed witch to talk through her nightmares, though she would never do so without prompting. So, Hermione would of course prompt her.

"What happened to me…" Minerva said softly, shuddering. "...was happening to you. I was there, but bound and unable to help you."

Hermione winced. With nothing more than that for a description, her own fears of rape surfaced with a vengeance. Minerva knew something had happened to her, but not specifically what, or who had been her attacker. She'd withheld that information, not because she didn't trust Minerva with that secret, but because she knew how wounded the older witch still was, and worried that she would seek out and harm _him. _

_Him_, of course, being her uncle, who stayed with Hermione's family over the summer holiday, and anytime her parents were out, and she remained home, he would rape her. At first, he'd drugged her so there would be no struggle. That had been the summer before she turned twelve - the summer before she'd come to Hogwarts for the first time. The following year was the same, though the year following that, Hermione had gotten smart enough not to eat or drink anything her uncle had prepared. However, her struggling had not stopped him from raping her again that summer, nor did it stop him in the summers that followed. She never told her parents, as her Uncle had told him that if she did, he'd tell them it was her idea, and that if they knew, they wouldn't allow her to return to Hogwarts in the fall. She liked to hope they would believe her, over him, but she couldn't risk it. So, she let him have his way.

She couldn't say she really minded the idea of her bastard of an uncle coming to harm, after what he'd done to her, but she wouldn't let Minerva get in trouble for it. If he ever met a sticky end, it would be at her own hand. In fact...today was a good a day as any to do so. She could speak with Severus after breakfast, and still have several hours to spare before students arrived for start of term. Besides, she wanted to see her parents…

"Hermione, what are you thinking about?" Minerva asked, breaking her away from her thoughts.

"Oh, was just wondering if I'd have time to go see my parents today," she replied.

"I'm sure you would. I could come with you, if you like, as you did assist me with the last of my paperwork last evening" the older witch offered.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'll...I'll be fine on my own."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Hermione wasn't stupid - she knew that her former Professor was now very aware that _something_ was going on, though she also knew Hermione well enough to know that she'd say no more on the matter. "Very well," she said, crawling out of bed and heading toward the suite's bathroom. "Give them my regards though, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione whispered, frowning. She hadn't meant to push Minerva away like that. She just...had to do this...on her own… and didn't fancy waiting till next summer. Her uncle would be returning to his home in Ireland tonight. He always stayed till September the first...just long enough to make sure she was off to school and therefore not able to try and tell on him.

* * *

Minerva crouched low to the ground, observing Hermione's approach to her childhood home. Though normally, being in her Animagus form would allow her approach more closely without being noticed, she wasn't going to take the chance that Hermione would stop her; not after the young woman had more or less _ordered_ her to not come visit her parents with her.

John and Jean Granger were dentists, whom Minerva had met several times, but really couldn't say she knew either of them well. An uncle of Hermione's, a muggle by the name of Andrew, also resided in the Granger home during the summer hols. Andrew, as Hermione had told it, was her father's uncle; a willowy, gaunt looking fellow with frizzy grey hair, glasses, and a surprisingly firm handshake, Minerva remembered. Why he came to stay every summer was something the older witch had always wondered about, and now, after her encounter with Hermione this morning, she had a fairly good guess.

Hermione had hinted, four months ago, that she too had been a victim of rape, though had refused to say who her attacker had been, other than the fact that she was exposed to him each summer, much like Harry Potter was _exposed_ to the Dursley's each June, July, and August. From what Minerva knew of her former pupil's parents, she couldn't imagine either of them causing her undue harm; they'd tried long and hard to get her the first place, after all. Andrew, however, was decidedly...creepy.

The front door opened and Hermione leaned into her mother's embrace. Minerva, having scouted out the house before Hermione's arrival, lept up the trunk of a nearby tree, across a thick branch, and onto the sill of an upper floor window, which was conveniently cracked open. She let herself into what she believed was John's office, and then quietly padded her way down the hall, until she was positioned behind a Ficus tree at the top of the stairs. From here, she could see what was going on in the living room below.

"It's about time we see you, 'Mione," John stated, hugging his daughter. "Are you going to tell us why you've been holed up at that school all summer, now?"

"Dad," Hermione frowned. "I told you. I was helping a friend."

"All summer?" Jean inquired. "This person must be something special, if they can keep you away from home like that."

"She is," Hermione confessed, winning a look of incredulousness on her father's face, and a whoop of victory from her mother.

"I told you, John!" Jean grinned. "So, who is she? What's she like? Is she pretty?"

"Mum!" Hermione gaped. "How did you…"

"I'm your mother, Hermione," Jean said with a smile. "I'm supposed to know things. Like, for example, if her daughter prefers the company of other women, rather than men."

Hermione huffed. "Well, then. Her name is Minerva. She's smart, and caring, and Scottish…"

"Scottish is good!" Jean chuckled. "Bet she has a great accent."

Minerva listened on, amused. She was very interested in how much Hermione would tell them about her. Would Hermione be upfront with her parents about the fact that the woman she was interested in happened to be her former Professor?

"So, how'd you two meet?" John asked, having recovered from the shock that his wife had been correct in her assessment that their daughter was a lesbian.

"Well…" Hermione began.

She was saved by the bell, as it were, when her uncle made an entrance. "Hey 'Mione," he said. "How ya doin' darlin'?"

The young woman stiffened visibly, lending credence to Minerva's theory that Andrew was the one who had raped her.

"Uncle," she replied softly. "I was doing just fine till you walked in."

"Hermione!" Jean gasped. "What on earth would make you say such a rude thing?"

The youngest Granger straightened her back, and then reached up her sleeve to retrieve her wand. "Six summers worth of holding my tongue," she said firmly, raising her hand and pointing the wand toward her uncle.

Minerva transformed back into her human form quickly. "Hermione, don't!" she called from the top of the stairs, quickly walking down to the living room. Her own wand was in hand, prepared to disarm her former student if necessary. It almost made her sick to defend a man who had raped Hermione repeatedly, but she would not see the woman she was falling in love with go to Azkaban for him.

"I told you not to come, Minerva!" Hermione shouted, looking quite angry.

"Which is precisely why I felt I should," she countered. "As you've not left my side in four months, which means that whatever you were up to, it could not be good."

"Aren't you…" Jean started, looking intently at the woman who had just waltzed into her house without so much as a '_may I come in?' _"Professor McGonagall?"

"I am," Minerva acknowledged. "Good to see you again, Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger. I presume the pile of dragon dung Hermione has at wand point is Andrew."

"Now see here -" Andrew squeaked. "I shall not stand for threats from you, madam! Or you, Hermione!"

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" Hermione seethed. "Don't you even _speak _to her!"

"What has gotten into you, Hermione?" John exclaimed.

"HE DID!"

"He did _what_, exactly?" John asked, looking suspiciously at his uncle.

After a full thirty seconds of tense silence, Minerva answered for Hermione. "He raped her."

"Seventeen times," Hermione elaborated, finding her tongue. "Over the course of six summers."

John and Jean both stared at Minerva for a moment, then at their daughter for another moment, before turning to look at the man they'd graciously allowed to stay in their home while he visited from America each summer.

"Andrew?" Jean finally asked. "Is this true?"

John's uncle didn't even have the good grace to look remorseful. "She asked for it!" he accused. "Waltzing around in those skimpy little outfits…"

"My bloody pajamas!" Hermione shouted.

"Oh my god," Jean whispered.

"You son of a bitch," John said, jaw clenched. "My daughter?"

Before Andrew knew what was coming, John had punched the older man squarely in the nose, knocking him out cold. "Phone the Bobbies, Jean. Before I kill him."

Minerva pulled Hermione into her arms, allowing the younger woman to cry against her breast. "It's over, darling," she whispered. "It's over."

* * *

The muggle Police came and took Andrew Granger away, to be tried for the rape of his great-niece. John and Jean invited Minerva to join the family for lunch, and when all was said in done, Hermione was glad Minerva had gone against her wishes and followed her home.

"So, Hermione," Jean said as she, Hermione, and Minerva worked to prepare the noontime meal, "Is this the woman who has caught your eye?"

Hermione smirked as Minerva ceased cutting up the vegetables. "Yes, mum," she replied simply.

"Good," Jean nodded. "I hoped as much."

Minerva turned and looked at Jean incredulously. "You _hoped_ your daughter who be romantically interested in her much older, female, former Professor?"

"It's not like your ancient, Minerva," Jean huffed. "Hermione's always been so mature…"

"Mum…"

"I'm older than you!" Minerva objected.

"No way. You can't be more than forty…" Jean frowned.

"Try sixty-two," the older witch huffed.

"Mind you, mum," Hermione stepped in, "that witches age differently than muggles. In muggle terms, Minerva's just shy of forty."

"See?" Jean smiled. "As I'm fifty-five, you are still a good deal younger than I. Out of curiosity though, what's the formula for determining the muggle age equivalent of a witch or wizard?"

"We reach physical maturity at the age of seventeen, at which point we age at half the rate as a muggle," Minerva explained. "So if you take my age of sixty-two, minus seventeen, divided by two, and then add the seventeen back on, you get the physical age."

"So if I were a witch…" Jean asked.

"You'd appear about thirty-six," Minerva replied.

"Damn," the other woman sighed. "That's a nice perk to being a witch."

"You are a witch," John stated humorously, stepping into the kitchen. "My witch."

"Ha, ha, very funny, dear," his wife glared. "By the way John, Minerva is the lover that's Hermione was about to tell us about before the whole thing with Andrew…"

"Really?" he said, squinting at their guest. "Nice job, hun. Can't say you don't have good taste."

"Daddy!" Hermione yelped, blushing.

"She must have gotten her taste in lovers from you," Jean smirked. "As I'm quite the catch, too."

"Mum, about the lovers thing…" Hermione whispered, wanting to spare Minerva anymore embarrassment at the hands of her parents.

"Our relationship is quite new," Minerva stepped in. "Our feelings have been expressed, being given our respective histories and current social statuses, we've taking things quite slow."

"Social statuses?" John asked.

"Hermione's quite famous in the wizarding world," the older witch smirked. "Didn't you know?"

"Says the Headmistress of Hogwarts," Hermione countered.

"Headmistress!" Jean gasped. "Last Hermione said, you were just one of the Professors. Congratulations on your promotion!"

"She would have been Headmistress last year if it weren't for the war," Hermione said pointedly.

"Or Severus," Minerva added, nodding.

"Severus Snape, you mean?" John asked. "Nice bloke."

"You know Severus?" Minerva asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Jean replied with a smile. "He was our...what was it called, Hermione?"

"Secret keeper," the younger Granger female supplied, reaching into a cabinet to get dishes to set the table with. "I asked Professor Snape be be a Secret keeper for my parents before Harry, Ron and I went on the run last year."

"How did you know he was on our side?" Minerva asked incredulously. "I certainly wasn't sure one way or the other. I mean, I know Albus trusted him...but…"

"I knew he could occlude the fact from Voldemort if he wished to," Hermione stated. "Which made him a wise choice from the off. "I also had him make the Unbreakable Vow to keep them safe. In exchange for his efforts, I did what he could not last year."

"And that was…?"

"Keep Harry safe."

"Oh." Minerva huffed. "No wonder he took you on as an apprentice this year. You can be positively Slytherin when you want to."

Hermione grinned. "You do know Harry and I were both nearly sorted to Slytherin, don't you Minerva? Ron was the only one of us three that was a pure Gryffindor. Your one true cub."

"Oh bloody hell," Minerva muttered.

All three Grangers laughed.

* * *

After lunch with the Grangers, Minerva and Hermione returned to the castle. They had another two hours before the Hogwarts express would roll in, bringing with it several hundred students, some familiar, and others coming for the first time. "Let's go back to our quarters," Minerva suggested. "Maybe have a bit of a lie down before the students come and all hell breaks loose."

"Our quarters?" Hermione questioned with a small smile.

"Hermione, you've been living with me for four months, and we essentially told your parents today that we're dating. At this point, I'd say it's more than fair to call them _our quarters_."

The younger woman frowned. "It seems that now would be a good time to talk about that," she said. "I mean, I've made it clear how I feel about you, and you seem to be equally interested in pursuing a romantic relationship, but we haven't really _talked_ about what that means."

"True," Minerva agreed as the pair stepped into the Headmistress' suite. "Dilly!"

A small, female House Elf appeared at once. "Yes, Headmistress?"

"Would you be so kind as to bring some tea and Ginger Newts for Hermione and I?"

"Of course, ma'am," Dilly replied. She vanished again at once, and by the time Minerva and Hermione had seated themselves on the loveseat in the den, a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of Minerva's treasured Ginger Newts had arrived.

"So," Hermione started. "I've told you how I feel, but while you've seemingly welcomed my interest, you've not really expressed how _you_ feel."

"Funny you say that," Minerva replied. "as had you asked me yesterday, I would have said, honestly, that I was unsure how I felt. I knew I felt something, but I wasn't certain I could call it love. However, when you raised your wand to Andrew this afternoon, I stopped you not because I didn't think he deserved to be cursed, or die for that matter, but rather because...I couldn't stand the thought of the woman I am falling in love with going to Azkaban for a creep like him. So… there you have it, Hermione. Despite every good reason to have pushed you away, or to push you away now...I find that I cannot, as I am falling in love with you."

Hermione leaned into the other woman's embrace. "Thank you," she whispered. "For loving me, and for stopping me. I did mean to kill him, you know."

"I understand," Minerva nodded. "Had Greyback not been killed during the battle, I would have sought him out… I would have killed him without even thinking twice."

"Andrew is going to jail, and Greyback is dead," Hermione murmured. "We both have pasts and hurts to deal with yet, but I want to walk that road with you; to help you, and for you to help me. As that is happening, I don't want to have to pretend I don't love you."

"You realize, of course," the older witch said pointedly, "that not everyone will be as accepting of a romance between us as your parents were. Potter...er… Harry, and Ronald… you run a risk of losing them just for being with me."

"They'll understand," Hermione replied with certainty. "After all we've been through… I can't imagine them not being supportive. They may not like it, they probably won't understand it, but they'll accept it. What about the other Professors?"

Minerva laughed. "I'm their boss. What are they going to do? Tease me?"

* * *

**Next chapter you can expect scenes with Severus (who, while HG/MM is my OTP, remains my favorite character in all of Harry Potter).**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	3. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I've had several reviews criticize this story, and my response to that is as follows. I apologize in advance to anyone who is offended by what I have to say, but keeping my thoughts to myself seems kind of stupid at this point:**

**I have been raped. Twice, by two different men. First, when I was all of ten and had no idea what was happening. Second, when I was drugged and taken advantage of. I also spent, in my late teens, a year being sexually harassed by a man who had known me since I was seven years old, who I though I could trust. He eventually did attempt to physically assault me, but in that case, I got lucky and got away. Point being: I am no stranger to being a victim of sexual assault. **

**For those of you who believe that I'm not being true to the situation, that Minerva and/or Hermione should be more of a mess than they seem to be, I want you to know that I'm writing from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. When I was raped at ten, I knew I didn't like it, but was also embarrassed and told no one. By the time I was raped the second time, I was in a relationship with a man whom I believed would kill the man who assaulted me, and I didn't want my boyfriend to go to jail. Again, I said NOTHING. **

**It was years later before I opened up about my experiences. No one knew. Everyone perceived me as fine, and I felt fine myself. To me, it was something unpleasant that happened, which I had no desire to think about, nor talk about. It did not turn me into a puddle of emotional mess. I'm not saying it didn't effect me - it did. It made me slow to trust, particularly when it came to men. It made me very hard on men... any man I've ever dated will tell you it was like pulling teeth to earn my trust, and that I am often "mean" to them. If something a man does bothers me, I will tell them quite harshly how I feel.**

**It was YEARS later before I sought therapy and actually processed the emotions. THAT, right there, is what I wanted this story to be about - about how the world doesn't stop turning when a woman is raped, and sometimes, like me, that woman can go on like it never happened for a long time before shit hits the fan, before she deals with it.**

**Regarding my lack of "Rape Trigger" warning - The summary says "Rated M for sensitive material." In fanfic, this usually means one of two things: either it deals with child abuse, or rape. As this is not marked 'family', I did sort of expect that common sense would allow you all to narrow down the options. I will not change it. Quite frankly, you've been raped, and this sort of story bothers you, AND "M for sensitive material" does not give you enough of a clue...then don't read my stories. It sucks that I feel it's come tot hat, but I write 'real life' into my fic, and if you can't face reality...I encourage you to see a councilor. **


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